New Magic? That's what the flying egg has. New magic unlike any ever encountered in Blackmoor. New magic of a type that could give the fledgling kingdom an important edge in the wars that are brewing on its borders. There are only a few minor problems. Like the fact that the magician who piloted the metal egg to one of Blackmoor's sworn enemies, the monks of evil and eccentric Order of the Frog, are also interested in the magic represented by the egg. And, most important, the fact that the egg came from the distant and dangerous City of the Gods. Set amist the blistered salt flats of the Valley or the Ancients, the City of the Gods is a strange and deadly metal metropolis whose powerful guardians do not welcome intruders. Yet it is to this place of deadly menace that Blackmoor's leaders now send a daring expedition? to bargain for aid in the coming wars? or to steal the magic of the gods. TSR 9191

On every side the storm clouds gather. To south and east, the Great Empire of Thonia plots to end Blackmoor's independence and reclaim its lost province. To the west, the implacable Afridhi are on the move. To the north, the evil Egg of Coot prepares to cross the thundering sea and once again bring fire and sword into the heart of the small kingdom. Beyond the realm of the Egg, the hated Skandaharian Raiders are building longships and preparing to fall upon Blackmoor's unprotected coast while its tiny army turns to meet these other threats. Into this time of black despair, there steps a band of adventurers who clutch strange swords and wear the most curious armor?and who claim that Blackmoor sank beneath the ice 3,000 years ago! TSR 9172

Green Death... That's what old hands call the Great Dismal Swamp. For centuries, this tangled maze of sluggish watercourses, stagnant ponds, and festering marshes has defended Blackmoor's southwestern frontier. Large armies and smaller parties have disappeared altogether inside its vast, dripping, claustrophobic corridors. Among those who have dropped from sigh in this arboral hell is young Rissa Aleford, one of Blackmoor's most important leaders. Carried off to the sinister City of the Fron, she is now being held by the eccentric Monks of the Swamp. By making the baroness captive, the deranged monks have serioulsy weakened Blackmoor at a time when enemies already threaten it from all sides. Yet, even as the Froggies gloat, the king of Blackmoor dispatches a small band of bold adventures to the rescue. Deep into the Great Dismal Swamp they must go - far from sunlight and sanity - there to seek and save the swamp, there to find the Temple of the Frog. TSR 9175

The Well of Souls. . . That's what Zugzul babe the Afridhi call the evil artifact that he had taught them to make. They must call it the Well of Souls, and they must carry it before them into every battle? and they would be mighty. Thus said the god of the Afridhi, Zugzul the One. So the Afridhi did as they were bade. Seeking the volcano called the Hill of the Hammer in the far Barrens of Karsh, they built in its heart a great forge. There, as Zugzul had promised, efreet came to help them make the mighty artifact. There, amid vile, unholy rites, they bound the souls of men into its very substance, and, for the red-handed work that must surely follow hard upon its completion. Many were the men who guarded the Hill of the Hammer during the days of making? for their foes in hated Blackmoor would try to unmake that which they had wrought. Yet, it was not men that would keep the Well of Souls from destruction, but a prophecy? that the artifact would be unmade only by the hand of one as yet unborn! TSR 9205